A Night in Osaka
by Soquilii
Summary: Rated M/NC17 - Adult Eliot Spencer gets around…globally. He once met a Japanese policewoman in Osaka who taught him how to trim a bonsai.


A NIGHT IN OSAKA

Rated NC17 - Adult

_Eliot Spencer gets around…globally. He once met a Japanese policewoman in Osaka who taught him how to trim a bonsai._

It was a cold, rainy night with nothing to do but sit at the bar, drink, and empty bowl after bowl of popcorn and peanuts. Not a bad deal, considering; it was _Girls' Night Out_ and _Guys' Night In;_ that meant plenty of football, beer and bawdy conversation.

The Hacker and the Mastermind had lost a tidy sum to the Hitter, whose Oklahoma Sooners had roundly trounced the hopes of the Oregon Ducks. Drowning their sorrows in, respectively, an orange soda and two whiskeys, the three male members of Leverage, Inc. turned their conversation to less disheartening matters. One fascinating subject, to Nate, anyway, was Eliot's love life, or abundance, thereof.

'Eliot…' said Nate, rather blearily, 'You once said something about dating a...cop? _Ah_...a...Japanese policewoman, wasn't...it?'

'Uh huh.'

'What, uh…what was that like…uh, exactly?'

Hardison, the only sober man in the room, bugged his eyes. 'Seriously? _Seriously_. Nate, you don't go probing into somebody's private sex life, man!'

'Well, he told me a little bit about it a while back...seems like _Eliot's_ the one who did the probing...' Nate replied with a straight face.

'Nate! _Man_...Don't be ask-' Hardison began.

Nate cut him off. 'No, Eliot, I just wanted some more detail, you know...more about it,' Nate said, sipping his drink. 'Sounds interesting. Japanese. _Hmmm_.'

Nate glanced at the Hitter, waiting. Hardison, thunderstruck, looked at the Hitter.

The Hitter simply smiled, listening to his friends continue to exchange friendly insults. Their bickering faded as he was transported to a time several years ago, before the team existed…

Eliot Spencer walked out of the curator's office with a generous fee and a pat on the back. He had successfully retrieved illegally obtained artifacts, including Nonaka Kofun armor and pottery, from a private collector's safe room and returned them to the Osaka Museum of History. He refrained from advising the museum to double their security at the site, thus securing another job opportunity for the future. He felt good; it was time to relax. New city, new opportunities.

Here in Osaka were a variety of things to do. Korea Town beckoned; the Tempozan Ferris Wheel was alight and loaded with passengers, and the Tsutenkaku Tower hovered overall. He wasn't in the mood for any of those things. What he wanted most of all was a good dinner in the company of a beautiful woman.

Eliot loved women; always had. From his days in school, taking home economics and studying the well-endowed teacher, to the female hitter who had shot him in Myanmar, they all fascinated him. He loved how they smelled; how they tasted; how they could make him feel as good as his work as an assassin felt bad, sometimes. They balanced his life. They made him feel alive. Blondes, smoky brunettes, fire-hot redheads, any race, any color; he didn't care; he loved them all. Once they'd been with him, they loved him.

Not knowing anyone here; ambling through Kema Sakuranomiya Park, Eliot decided to take a local call girl to the best restaurant in town; she could advise him where that might be when she arrived. However, his pocket held no cell phone. He'd left it at the hotel. What he had in hand was $10,000 in Japanese yen. No coins, which the rather rare public phones required. He didn't even have a cash card.

_Damn!_ He was in trouble already.

Unaware that his frantic search through his pockets and irritable demeanor had attracted the attention of a police officer, he punched the public phone. All he got for his trouble was set of bruised knuckles. He bent over in pain.

From behind him came a polite inquiry, which startled him.

'Need help, sir?'

Eliot glanced up. _Boy_, was he in trouble.

He straightened, tugged at his jacket and threw his hair back, trying to look respectable.

'Uh…hello, Officer, uh…I was just…'

'Trying to make call,' she guessed in her broken English, trying not to crack a smile.

'Uh, yeah. And uh…I just got paid, for my job you see, but it's all in paper…and uh…' he chuckled innocently. 'I needed a phone, and...'

'No cell phone,' she guessed again.

'No sir…uh, no ma'am, I uh, left it at the hotel.'

'No coin for pay phone.'

'That's right.'

'Phone takes card. No card?'

'You got it.'

'Where you stay sir?'

_Aw, no. _'Uh, the Nanba Dotombori.'

'That nice place.'

'Yes, sir, yes officer, ma'am, sir, it sure is.'

'If I may, who you trying call?' she asked politely.

Eliot's face reddened.

She smiled a knowing smile. 'Ah, I see. American alone in foreign town, need company. I right?'

'You right.'

She sized him up. Certainly not old, but no longer young; experienced; a little rough around the edges. Strong, by the look of him; a scrapper, judging by a few facial scars. His expression of wide-eyed innocence didn't fool her. He was witty, if forgetful, and she instinctively sensed a warm heart buried under that rough exterior. She'd been on the force a long time and read people like a book.

'I may suggest...you listen? Why not wait thirty minute...end of my shift...and you not worry about company?'

Eliot couldn't believe it._ This wasn't happening...was it?_

'Yeah...um...that..that would be nice,' he stuttered.

'And...you not punch more public phone?'

'No, no I sure won't,' he promised, rubbing his knuckles.

'Because we not have many left.'

'Yeah.'

'You break, you buy.'

'You have my word of honor.' He pressed a fingerless-gloved hand to his chest in earnest, smiling.

'You have incredible smile.'

'Thank you.'

'Good, now you wait on bench; I come get you.'

Eliot grinned and did as he was told.

He couldn't believe his luck. Here he was, riding shotgun with a beautiful Japanese police officer in her squad car, taking in the sights, going to dinner, stopping at his hotel for a few items then heading over to her place. Her name, he learned, was Risuka.

Inside a walled garden was a security gate; he took a quick look around while she unlocked it. Small but exquisitely landscaped, the garden had everything from a bridged koi pond to bonsai trees. She seemed to be having difficulty with the lock.

'May I?' he gallantly offered. Not many locks disobeyed Eliot Spencer.

She nodded. 'I see you admire bonsai.'

The lock gave him no trouble at all and he held the door for her. 'They look like full grown trees made for dolls! How do you get them so tiny?'

'Must start while tree young. Deprive of all but necessary nutrition. Cut back any new growth. Takes much practice.'

'How long have you been doing it?'

'Start as child; Grandfather teach. See?' She motioned toward several in various stages of treatment.

'Can I do one?' he asked, as eager as a child.

She smiled. 'Long day. I get comfortable, you pour wine, and we bonsai. Agree?'

'Agree.'

Sake and bonsai trees; a full moon and a beautiful woman. Eliot Spencer was in his element. He learned the intricacies of caring for and pruning this noble symbol of Japan; that the point of it all was for contemplation of the viewer and the pleasant exercise of effort and ingenuity for the grower. These trees were not for the production of food or medicines. They were objects of art, for the soul and for peace and harmony. She was showing him the techniques used for leaf trimming, pruning the trunk, and wiring the branches, taking his hand and guiding the clippers here and there. They drew together in the delicate endeavor, breaths mingling, cheeks almost touching. He snipped where she indicated, fully enjoying himself. She suddenly turned her lips to his. He met them, softly, tenderly.

'Finish tree later?' she asked, unnecessarily.

'You bet,' he murmured.

He laid the clippers down and lifted her into his arms. 'Where's your bedroom?'

'Through there,' she said, motioning.

Eliot stopped long enough to grab the bottle of sake.

She didn't have a traditional Japanese bed; for that he was grateful. It was high, fresh-smelling, with thick bedding that rounded the corners and many pillows piled against an intricate iron headboard.

Eliot set her on her feet and placed the bottle on the night stand. Eliot wasn't a tall man but well built; Risuka was only slightly shorter without her clunky patrol boots. He liked that she could look him almost straight in the eye. This night was gonna be special. Moonbeams cast shadows across the bed; she was beautiful in the soft light.

'Close drapes?' she asked.

'No,' he whispered huskily, 'leave them open.' He kissed her again, deeper; she returned the kiss hungrily.

'Risuka,' he breathed into her ear. 'Beautiful name.' Eliot freed the belt holding her robe and slid his hands in on either side of her waist. She was busy with his belt buckle; he was barely aware that she had divested him of it. As she slid his jeans and underwear down he stepped out of them and kicked them aside.

He shucked off his jacket and whipped his shirt over his head. She started to remove the ball-chain locket that hung from his neck but he stopped her. 'That's special,' he said. 'That stays on.'

His long hair brushed her shoulders; naked now, he kept kissing her. His hands found pins in her hair and discarded them; her long tresses hair fell down her back in a thick black cascade. He lifted her and placed her on the bed.

Straddling her still-robed body, his mouth found her ear and nuzzled it. Her small hands stroked his muscular back, but when they found their way beneath him, he murmured in her ear, 'No…not yet.'

Kissing was becoming inadequate for her; he could feel it, but he made her wait. His lips moved down her neck, and as his hands pushed the silk robe aside, fell on her small, firm breasts. He took his time, attending to each, back up to her neck again, taking her lips again and again. His mouth and tongue traveled back down toward her belly, dragging his medallion along, and back up. She vocalized her pleasure; her hands frantically sought his body and he had to grasp and hold them down. He wanted to take her with his mouth but she was unable to wait. He entered her easily though she wasn't prepared for his size.

'Japanese men not so large,' she gasped into his ear.

'Are you ok?'

'Yes, yes, please, not stop!'

So Eliot began the ancient dance of lovers, moving his hips up; forward, then back; fast, then slow; shallow then deep. She moved with him. She never closed her eyelids; just looked into his steel blue eyes, mouth open, allowing him to take her with him on the journey. He prolonged it, taking his time, until she could wait no more; her entire body tensed into one massive, shuddering orgasm. He let her have as much as she could before he himself lost control and joined her; they locked together, straining again and again until both were spent.

Softly, he kissed her cheeks, her eyes, and the tip of her nose. Then he rolled to his back to catch his breath. She turned and came up on one elbow to observe him in the moonlight. Twirling a strand of his long hair in her fingers, she said, 'Elriot, you _good_ lover. American men always good. Big, too. Japanese men not so big. Makes for better love...mmm. I have always prefer.'

He smiled at her mispronunciation of his name. 'I'm glad you think so,' he panted. 'I was born with it. Can't change it.'

'Not want to.'

He said her name. 'Risuka. Hm. It's pretty. Risuka. What does it mean?'

'Means _good law_.'

'You're shittin' me.'

'No, no,' she giggled. 'Parents name me for grandfather who was police officer. Honorable man. They not know I grow up to be same.'

'They didn't know you'd grow up to be so beautiful, either.'

She smiled at him. 'Sake?'

'Yeah, one more.'

She poured it and they clinked small white cups in salute.

She took hers in one gulp. While he sipped his, she picked up a pair of handcuffs off the floor.

'Speaking of being police officer, you know what we do?'

'Hm? What.' he said, returning the cup to the table. He looked back at her, hands in his lap.

'We take prisoner.' She swiftly clamped the handcuffs around his wrists. As a professional hitter and assassin, he could have easily prevented it but going along with it sounded like fun, so he allowed her to press him back onto the bed and latch his hands to the iron headboard.

She poured another sake and bolted it. He'd pretty much expended himself; he didn't know if he could play her game, but damned if he wasn't gonna die trying. If that's what it took...

She poured one more and held the cup to his lips. She sat, still in her robe, naked beneath, watching him. One hand stroked his body. Nervous excitement got the better of him and with her hand warm upon him, despite his fatigue, he soon came to readiness.

'American men very big,' she said again, marveling.

His breath came faster.

She smiled at his reaction. He groaned involuntarily as her hands stroked and fondled; now she lowered her head to him and he gasped; her mouth closing over him was beyond belief. True, he'd experienced it many times before, but it always felt like the first time, somehow. He grew frustrated with the handcuffs; he wanted them off to touch her. He said as much; she lay her fingers across his lips to silence him while she continued her lovemaking. When he thought he couldn't hold back any longer, she straddled him. His powerful back muscles nearly bucked her off but she stayed on, riding him, until he was completely drained. She extended her body along his, lying on top of him, kissing him tenderly. He returned her kisses; then, drunk from sake and spent by sex, he fell asleep almost instantly.

The next thing he knew, it was morning. She had removed the handcuffs, covered him, laid out his neatly folded clothes, and his nose told him a breakfast was warming in the oven. He couldn't believe it. He rolled out of bed and put his feet on the floor. There was a note on the nightstand, held down by the empty bottle of sake:

_You good man, Eliot_. She could write his name, if not pronounce it. He smiled and read the rest of the note. _Great lover! Sorry I must early report for work. Hope you stay. But if you go please look me up next time you here. Hit phone. I catch you.  
Your lover,  
Risuka_

A mysterious smile lit up Eliot's face as he turned to answer Nate

'It was fun,' he said.

Hardison looked nonplussed. 'Seriously. It was _fun_. Man, that all you got to say about a night with a Japanese _policewoman?'_

'_Now_ who's probing, Hardison?' Nate countered. 'Sorry, Eliot.'

'Hey, don't be apologizing for _me_, Nate. I can damned well apologize for _myself._ Man, I thought we was having a _man_ night, but if you gonna be like that...'

Nate, tuning out Hardison's whining, finished the last of his drink and left the bar. Hardison, sulking, flopped down on the sofa to channel-surf. As far as he was concerned, the night was a bust.

Eliot sat on at the bar with his beer, smiling, remembering...

...his night in Osaka.

THE END


End file.
